Chapter 19
Simon
I’ve read the text message so many times in the last five days that the words are practically tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.
Hope you had fun at the beach. I’m ditching the rest of The List, so we don’t need to meet anymore, but thanks for your help. It was fun getting to know you!
I don’t know what stings more. The breezy, carefree tone, or those final words. It was fun getting to know you!
But she didn’t get to know me at all. Not the real me, anyway.
Sure, she knows what I’m like on a road trip to the mountains or an afternoon at a fancy spa. She knows what I’m like in bed, and that I prefer red wine to white.
But my family? My career? My life? I never let her in at all.
Which was on purpose, of course. There was no sense getting attached if we’d both agreed it was just a temporary thing for fun. I should be grateful she’s letting me off easy, cutting me loose before anyone gets attached or gets hurt.
It’s better this way.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I storm through my work week in a shitty mood.
I’m grumpy and out-of-sorts, and I take to working alone at the headquarters so I won’t be a dick to any of my employees.
I double up on gym time, hoping to burn off some of the self-loathing that’s eating at me.
I take Junie to dinner and cross my fingers she doesn’t notice my lousy attitude.
By the time I drop her off, my cheeks hurt from forcing myself to smile.
“Why are you so sad, Simon?”
So much for that.
I lean against the porch railing of Junie’s group home, aware this is going to be a longer drop-off than I expected. “I’m just busy at work.”
She frowns. I can’t tell if she doesn’t believe me or if something else is puzzling about my response. “You need love.”
“Good idea.” I spread my arms wide and offer a half-hearted smile. “You can give me an extra-big hug, then.”
She laughs and gives my arm a playful swat. “Not that kind of love. The other kind.”
Junie gives me a meaningful look, and I try not to grimace. My sister has been known to watch soap operas on her days off, and last year she had a crush on a guy here at the residence. I’m pretty sure she knows more than I wish she did about other kinds of love.
“I have all the love I need,” I assure her. “You’ve got me covered.”
“I don’t think so. You’re sad.”
“I’m not,” I insist.
“You’re a very bad liar.”
Her words sting more than she means them to. My lies are what made this whole thing with Cassie so much worse.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s probably true.”
She shakes her head and gives me a pitying look. Then she wraps her arms around me. “I love you, Simon.”
“Love you, too, Junebug.”
She lets go of me and turns to go inside the house. “Maybe you should get a girlfriend.”
“I’ll take that under advisement.”
“That one at the beach was nice. I like her.”
See? This is why I can’t have girlfriends. Junie met Cassie for two minutes, and she’s already attached. Another reminder why this could never work.
“Bye, Junie.” I step off the porch and head to my car. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“See you Sunday!”
She’s still waving from the porch as I pull away from the curb and head down the street.
I glance at the clock on the dash and wonder if I should squeeze in another workout.
It seems better than going home and noticing how big and empty my house is.
It’s felt empty all week, which is stupid.
I’ve lived alone my whole adult life, never once inviting a woman to move in with me.
Why would I just now start feeling alone?
Because she got under your skin. Even though you didn’t let her in, she got in anyway.
Which is probably true, but I certainly fucked it up good now. There’s no way Cassie would want to talk to me again, even if I could have a more meaningful relationship.
Which I can’t. I can’t, right?
As I pull up the long driveway, I see my house is not as empty as I expected. At least the front porch isn’t. Two women sit on the wrought-iron bench my decorator put there because she said it made the house look more “homey.”
If the bench made it homey, the women themselves make it look like a fucking Pottery Barn catalog. One of them is knitting something out of navy blue yarn, and the other is reading a magazine. As I pull up, I see it’s Better Homes and Gardens.
Both of them look up as I pull the car to a halt, and I realize it’s Cassie’s sisters. They’re both here, and for a second, I think Cassie’s with them, too. My dumbass heart starts bouncing around like a superball in my chest, and it takes me a good thirty seconds to realize she’s nowhere in sight.
The sisters watch me get out of the car. Neither stands up, and I wonder what I’m about to walk into.
“Ladies,” I say. “What brings you here?”
Missy speaks first. “We’d like to have a word with you.”
She closes the magazine and sets it aside, then gestures to a nearby Adirondack chair that I’m pretty sure no one’s ever sat in before.
Part of me wants to point out the social faux pas of inviting yourself to someone’s home and then giving the orders, but the truth is that I’m a little glad to see them.
Maybe. I guess it depends on why they’ve come.
I ease myself into the chair and rest my hands on the arms of it. I feel awkward and out of place on my own front porch, and I just want one of these two to tell me how Cassie’s doing. If she hates me, or if she’s already forgotten my name.
“He does have nice hands,” Lisa says to Missy.
“That is a point in his favor.”
They’re talking about me like there’s some sort of score sheet I’m unaware of, and I feel a flicker of hope that’s Cassie’s doing. But no. Cassie is done with me. She made that clear.
I clear my throat. “How did you know where I live?”
“That Forbes article had a photo of the view from your back deck,” Lisa says. “Lake Oswego isn’t that big. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”
“Remind me to install a better security system.”
“We didn’t break in,” Lisa points out.
I don’t doubt that they could if they wanted to.
These two seem crafty. Missy reaches below the seat and pulls out a jar filled with amber liquid and something that looks like mint leaves.
She pours some into a glass then reaches into a small cooler at her feet and plucks a few ice cubes with silver tongs.
She drops them into a glass and hands it to me, while Lisa produces a small glass jar filled with tiny cookies, each with an almond in the center.
I take two, hoping they haven’t shown up here to poison me.
If they have, it’s an okay way to go. This is a damn good cookie.
“You take sugar in your iced tea?” Missy asks.
“I’m good, thank you.”
As soon as we’re all settled in with our drinks and snacks in hand, Lisa begins the lecture portion of the afternoon. “We’re here about Cassie.”
My stupid heart does a painful surge at the sound of her name, but I do my best to keep my expression neutral. “I kinda figured.”
“She told us how the two of you met.” Missy gives me a knowing look, but I only nod. No way am I volunteering anything. I don’t know what Cassie actually told them, so I’m keeping quiet.
“About The List,” Lisa adds. “And the sex stuff.”
“Not the details,” Missy adds, probably because she saw me start to choke on my tea. “She was discreet.”
“Good,” I reply, not sure how to respond to that. “I guess that’s—something.”
What a stupid reply. If they didn’t already hate me, I’d be worried about the impression I’m giving. That I’m an uneducated idiot whose conversational skills rival those of a drunk baboon.
“Okay, then.” Lisa presses her lips together. “We’d like to get everything out on the table.”
Missy gives me a pointed look, and I know what she’s thinking. That I’m the one who should be spilling my guts. That I’m the one who should be volunteering every last detail about myself.
But Lisa surprises me with her next words.
“There are a few things you should know about Cassie,” she says.
Missy nods. “Important things.”
“For instance, when we were in high school, I told her I could do a Brazilian blowout on her hair,” Lisa says. “Only I screwed something up, and she ended up with orange patches.” She runs her palms down the knees of her tailored slacks. “It was not one of my finest moments. But she forgave me.”
“She also forgave me the time I set her up on a blind date with a guy who brought his mother along,” Missy says. “Though she probably shouldn’t have.”
I frown, not quite sure what these two are driving at. “Is there a reason you’re wanting me to know how much of your shit she puts up with? Because I’ve gotta tell you, I kinda figured that out on my own.”
The sisters exchange a look before turning back to me. Missy sighs like she’s having to explain something to an exceptionally dense child. “That’s not what we’re saying at all,” she tells me with exaggerated patience. “We’re saying she understands that people make mistakes.”
“And she’s willing to forgive the people she cares about.”
“Provided those people make amends.” Lisa folds her arms over her chest and levels me with a look I’m certain brings her fiancé to his knees on a regular basis. “Those were some pretty big lies you told her.”
“I didn’t lie, exactly.”
Both women frown at me, and I have the good sense to look away.
“Fine,” I say. “There may have been a few small fibs about the vacation.”
“There were plenty of lies by omission,” Missy says. “Those count, too.”
I sigh. I feel exhausted, which might have something to do with the fact that I haven’t slept well all week.
I’ll admit it. I enjoyed sleeping next to Cassie the few times it happened.
I loved hearing her laugh across the table from me at dinner, or reaching across the bed at night to stroke the gentle curve of her shoulder.
I miss the way she rolls her eyes when I annoy her, or the soft little sighs she makes in her sleep.
Fine. I miss her whether I’m awake or asleep.
I’m not sure what to do. “Look, I’ve spent the last five or six years dating women who only want me for my money.”
“Not very smart of you,” Lisa says. Her arms are still folded, and she reminds me of an expensively-dressed school teacher.
Missy gives a small snort of disgust. “I can assure you that’s not who Cassie is. She’s not the sort of woman who’d care one iota about your money.”
I look down into my tea. “No, she only wants me for my—”
“Ahem,” Lisa interrupts, kicking my shin so I look up at her. “I beg to differ.”
“She likes you.” Missy presses her lips together. “Probably a lot more than she should.”
“And it’s obvious you like her.” Lisa picks up her iced tea and takes a dainty sip before setting the glass down on a lacy doily thing I’m just now noticing. “We saw your face in the coffee shop. When Cassie said you were just friends?”
“You looked like a man who’d been punched in the stomach,” Missy says. “Like someone ran over your foot and then backed up to do it again.”
Lisa nods in agreement, then cocks her head at her sister. “You know, I don’t think he even realized how much he liked her. Not until right then.”
“Good point.” Missy folds her hands in her lap and looks at me. “Which is why he’s damn lucky Cassie’s the sort of woman who believes in second chances.”
There’s a hopeful flicker in the center of my chest, but I ignore it. There’s no way she’ll forgive me at this point.
Is there?
I set down my glass and drag my hands down my face. I still haven’t figured out if the sisters are here to offer hope or to kick my ass. Maybe a little of both. Which do I want?
You know damn well what you want. You’ve known it for weeks. You’re just too chickenshit to go after it.
I take a deep breath and look at the sisters. “So, what are you saying?” I ask. “That she’d take me back if I asked? If I told her I wanted an actual relationship?”
Lisa cocks her head at me. “Do you?”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t want to answer. Because I’m scared to.
“Yeah,” I admit at last. “I didn’t think I did, but then I met Cassie. And I guess—I don’t know. Maybe she’s not like all the other women I’ve dated.”
“Duh.” Missy looks at me with such disdain that I’m back to wondering if they’re here to poison me. “Cassie is like no woman you’ve ever met.”
“One of a kind,” Lisa agrees.
“Absolutely nothing like your money-grubbing hussies.”
I take a shaky breath. I want all of this to be true. Part of me is so desperate for there to be some way of fixing things that I worry I’m losing sight of the real problem. Of the reason I was so dead set against a relationship in the first place.
“Junie,” I say. “My sister. She gets attached very easily. Losing someone like Cassie—it would break her heart.”
“Then don’t lose Cassie, you idiot,” Missy says. “Problem solved.”
“Are you sure it’s your sister’s heart you’re really worried about?” Lisa folds her arms over her chest again. “Maybe it’s your own that scares the hell out of you.”
Her words hit me like a punch in the jaw. Is she right? Is there some truth to what she’s saying?
“Besides,” Missy adds. “Your sister would be lucky to have someone like Cassie in her life. Someone loving and kind and smart—”
“And loyal and sweet and compassionate.”
“And funny and beautiful and clever,” Missy concludes with a sharp nod.
I swallow hard, trying to get my bearings. Trying to come to terms with the fact I might have fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
But maybe there’s a chance to fix it.
“You’re right,” I say slowly. “Cassie is all of those things. All of those things and more.”
Both sisters smile at me like I’ve finally gotten a test answer right after a dozen wrong guesses. It’s Missy who speaks first.
“Then to answer your earlier question, yes—I believe she’d take you back.”
There’s that stupid flare in my chest again. It’s building to a small flame now, warm and hopeful. From the instant I spotted these two on my porch, this is what I’d wished they’d come to tell me. That I had a shot at this. That I could still get Cassie back.
“What do I need to do?”
I hate the desperation in my own voice. I hate the look the two sisters exchange. But I really hate what Lisa says next.
“You’re going to need to figure that part out for yourself, smart guy.”